


Fond and Awful

by deadlyfairytale



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blood Kink, Cannibalism, Character Death, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Post-Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-18 05:56:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7302115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadlyfairytale/pseuds/deadlyfairytale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Picks up a few weeks after the finale. Will is touch starved and hungry for blood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chamomile

The snow was soft and icy under his bare feet, and the blood was seeping through the cracks.

“You have blood on your lips” the ghost of the ravenstag insisted on saying with its eyes, bloodshot, dark as the worst of his unhinged fantasies.

“On my lips, and everywhere else…” he whispered, faint, faint, faint.

The ravenstag stared at him, fond and awful.

 

Will woke up feeling as if hands, fingertips, were pressing down on his throat, as if fire was washing over the inside of his carotid arteries. 

His pack was on him in a second, sensing the distress and smelling the fear, and the feral feelings surfacing like blossoming red flowers all around him. 

“Hey…” he ruffled his dog’s soft, soft, real fur, not black as the (unreal) ravenstag.

The dog whined, when the fingers tightened at the back of its neck.

“Sorry”

He ran a hand over his (sweaty) face, letting the dog retreat to the others, with a little less hair on the back of its neck.

His face, bad lit by the flickering light, was beginning to shatter, and the cracks were filling with red, red, red blood. 

 

The living room’s light was on, the door ajar, so he went where the stench of blood took him.

“Hi” he said, voice warm from the fever of his earlier dream, in nothing but a white t-shirt stained with sweat, and a small pair of boxers with pineapples on them. 

Eyes, bloodshot and dark as the worst of his unhinged fantasies, fond and awful, turned to look at him, up and down, and then back up.

“Good morning, Will. Did I wake you?”the voice was soft, concerned, not at all like the one in his previous life (before their death).

“No” his words were slow, calm, “a nightmare did”

“Would you like to talk about it?”

“No”

The man drowned a teabag in boiling water, and waited for three minutes, before speaking again.

“Would you like to join me for tea then?”   
“At three in the morning?”

“It’s chamomile, it will help you settle your nerves”   
“Just chamomile… any secret ingredients…?”

He smiled, a tiny amused sound escaping his lips, “We have no secrets now. Just chamomile”

Will raised an eyebrow, “Well then, I’ll have a cup. Shall I put some clothes on for this … three in the morning tea?”   
He gazed at him, “No, that won’t be necessary. Just  _ come _ .”

Will did, letting his curls tap against his damp forehead, and taking a seat next to him.

He chose his next words carefully, “And why are you awake at this late hour of the night,  _ Hannibal _ ?”

Hannibal’s nostrils flared at the sound of his name uttered with that voice.

“I couldn’t sleep, just like you.”

“Nightmares?”   
“No”

“No?”

“The abdomen wound reopened, and I had to stitch it back up. Chamomile tea is a good aid when it comes to pain and insomnia, so it seemed like a good idea”

Will licked his lips, “Was there a lot of blood?”

Before answering, he pushed towards him his cup of tea, and a small jar of homemade honey, “I wouldn’t say that”

“You look pale”  _ Bedelia said you were in love with me. _

“Losing blood will do that to a person”   
“And are you a person?”  _ But do I ache for you? _

Hannibal’s eyes crinkled up, as his mouth gifted Will with a smile.

_ I love you _ , Will imagined him saying, shuddering at his own imagination. If Hannibal noticed the shivers, he didn’t say anything, and instead he chose to continue sipping his tea in silence.

Silence had never been uncomfortable for them, they shared it more often than not since they had started living as fugitives, serial killers (cannibals) fugitives, that is.

They had been living in the same place for three going on four weeks now, and Hannibal had even brought home a few strays for him, to soothe the grief, the pain, the nightmares.

Sometimes they helped.

He wasn’t a prisoner, he was an accomplice, and yet, he felt like he had no choice but to stay with him.  _ Can’t live with him, can’t live without him _ , the words echoed in his mind every time he thought about leaving, and they were true. 

The house (home, he called it now) they had chosen wasn’t a very big one, but he had his space, his own room, a small lake at the back, where he could go fishing, a studio for Hannibal to draw, and write, and not kill.

He hadn’t killed anyone, not since that time at the top of the cliff.

He hadn’t even touched Will, not even a touch on the shoulder,  _ nothing _ , and Will was starving, but even so, he finished his tea in silence.

“Thank you for the tea”

“My pleasure”

“Why haven’t you killed anyone here?” 

Hannibal seemed unfazed by the question, he set his tea aside, and looked him in the eyes, “I can control my urges. I have gone without for years, and I haven’t met anyone so rude here as to earn themselves a slaughter”

“So, you will simply stop? Is this your way of retiring or you know, something like that? I’m too old to slaughter people for no reason?”

He was amused once again, “No, I’m not retiring. I find your third grade rather curious, dear Will. Is there anybody that you wish me to kill?”   
“No” he answered too quickly.

“If so, just say the word, and I’m at your command”

“Anybody?”   
“Yes”

“What if I wanted to kill a young girl, a child?”   
“If that’s what you wished for, I would,  _ for you _ .”

“You know I wouldn’t”   
“I know you wouldn’t”

Will bit the inside of his mouth, slowly standing up, “I will try to go back to sleep”

“Of course”

He hesitated then, eyes fixated on the blood stain on Hannibal’s robe, just below the abdomen, he couldn’t see how large the stain was from where he was standing.

“Why don’t you come with me?”   
Hannibal raised an eyebrow.

“I bet you’re one of those creepers who enjoy watching people sleep” the boy with nightmares continued.   
Hannibal smiled, “No, but I enjoy watching  _ you _ ”   
Suddenly Will wished he hadn’t said any of that, he could feel his face starting to redden, his blood rushing to his cheeks.

“Then  _ come _ ” his voice was steady and low, despite the rush of blood.


	2. Coffee, Bacon & Eggs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will decides it's time.

The light in Will's room was still flickering, casting terrible shadows on their faces, as if they were Picasso’s paintings, masterpieces of angles and pain.

Hannibal switched it off, and sat by the bed, on the old chair that now smelled like dogs and terrible cologne, just like  _ his _ Will.

Will pulled the covers over his trembling body, and curled up into a small ball, watching Hannibal from under his eyelashes.

“Would you like me to read you a story to help sleep come to you?”   
“No” then after a moment, he added, “but you could  _ tell _ me one, or you could answer some of my questions”   
“I’m at your mercy”

“Tell me about Bedelia”   
“What about her?”   
“Why did you pick her?”   
“She knew me”

“But did she  _ see  _ you?”   
“Sometimes, but not whole”

“Like I do”   
“Like you do”

“Will you kill her?”   
“Yes”

“Will you kill me?”   
“No”

“No” he repeated, “simple as that?”

“Just  _ so _ ” just chamomile, no secrets, “a world without you in it... is not a world I wish to inhabit. This conclusion has taken me a while to reach, however now that I’m free of all that bitterness and betrayal, it’s just  _ that _ simple, and I regret not having reached it sooner. When you are with me, Will, you mustn’t fear for your own life, because I no longer wish to consume you in  _ that way _ .”

“Did Bedelia suggest that killing me… eating me, would be therapeutic for your poor betrayed soul?”

“She did”

“You allowed her to manipulate you”

“A mistake I won’t repeat. I sense bitterness, is it against me for allowing her to manipulate me or against her for manipulating me?”   
“I think  _ yes _ is the answer to that”

“Would _you_ like to kill her,  _ Will _ ?”

“Slowly”

Hannibal’s eyes glinted in the darkness, and he  _ had _ to wet his lips, dry from the longing to reach across the space between the chair and the bed.

He imagined himself running his fingers through Will’s curls, damp and messy, calling him a  _ magnificent boy _ .

He wanted to taste his wrath, drink it, swallow it down, and coax out more and more darkness out of him, he wanted to watch him unravel in front of him, he wanted to consume him in  _ this way _ .

Will held out his hand saying, “Take it”, and Hannibal did, rubbing a thumb against his knuckles, gentle as if they would break under the barest of touches.

“Would you like me to hold your hand until you fall asleep?”

“ _ Please _ ”

When he was certain that Will was asleep, he asked the room, “And will you kill me?”

He imagined  _ yes _ was the answer to that, with hands tight around his neck, and breath warm over his lips.  _ Intimate _ .

 

In the morning, Will woke up aching all over, his arm especially, still stretched out so that his hand was still grasping Hannibal’s hand in a tight hold.

The scene reminded him of that one day at the hospital, when they were watching over her (their daughter, as Hannibal used to put it).

The numbness won, after feeling a fleeting need to throw up the guilt, and he let his hand go.

He watched Hannibal for a long time, defenseless and vulnerable, before sitting up and going for a much needed shower.

The smell of fresh coffee and eggs surrounded him when he stepped out of the bathroom, and without a care in the world, he padded to the kitchen, barefoot and with only a towel wrapped around his waist, shamelessly dripping all over the pine parquet. 

“Hey”

Hannibal almost dropped the spatula into the frying pan, and even so, his expression didn’t change (not much), “Good morning, Will. I trust you have slept well”

“I did, thank you” he poured himself a cup of coffee, and without even waiting for him to finish cooking, he scooped up some scrambled eggs and bacon directly from the pan, standing too close to him.

Hannibal wasn’t impressed, but the scar on Will’s abdomen was too beautiful for him to pay attention to anything else.

“You’re gaining weight” he said instead.

“That your way of saying I’m fat?”

He turned off the stove, and took a seat opposite him, “Not at all”   
“Just saying, because if you are, it’s all your fault” 

“Just like everything else in your life seems to be”

Will hummed in agreement, chewing around a mouthful of eggs and bacon, deliberately taking his time, like he would when he would be tasting Bedelia.

He felt his eyes on him, warming up his bare skin without even touching it; he tucked a stray curl behind his ear, his eyes never leaving Hannibal’s until they started following his tongue darting out of his mouth.

“You still look hungry” Will threw around casually, reclining back against the chair,  _ showing off _ for him. 

“I am”

“Are. You. Going. To. Eat. Me.”

“Would you like to be eaten?”

“Sounds dangerous”   
“It can be”

A pause.

“Did you fuck much, you and her?”

Hannibal’s little smirk was nothing but self-satisfaction, “Such crude language, Will”

“Well, did you?”

“I believe this conversation is not appropriate to be had over breakfast, don’t you think?”

“I’ll ask again over dinner, then” 

“We did, yes”

Will’s hands were itching to dig themselves into Hannibal’s neck, and tear apart the delicate skin there “If it’s not fucking, what do you call it then?”

“Compromise, release”

“ _ Fucking _ ”

“If that’s what you would like to call it”

“And with me, what would you call it?” 

His eyes darkened but he avoided the question, and didn’t answer, “I should clean up, and you should put some clothes on”

“We should … or we shouldn’t”

“And what do you think we should do?”   
“I think… we should go on a little road trip, with your plastic suit, pay a visit to an old flame”

“I’m starting to believe that you might be obsessed with her”

“No, just with her death. Will you indulge me?”

“I will”

Will’s smile was beautiful. 


	3. Raw Meat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A train ride and a visit to an old flame.

They left the dogs in the cleaning lady’s care, a lovely woman from some country in Europe, who didn’t speak much English, and didn’t ask many questions, and they opted for a train ride instead of driving. 

Will firmly believed that Hannibal had chosen that particular house because Bedelia’s hiding place could be reached by train, but it wouldn’t be too obviously nearby. 

He wondered what the other passersby thought of them, father and son, man and lover, husbands, colleagues, there were infinite possibilities, and he mulled over which of those he would prefer, silent for the first three hours of the ride, just thinking about other people, and empathising with all of them.

Hannibal was wearing a three piece suit, grey and burgundy, and Will looked out of place with his ill fitting blue suit, and his rumpled white shirt with a few buttons left open on purpose. 

He found that just because they were two men most people assumed they were colleagues; that’s what the instinct tells the masses. Somehow that didn’t sit right with him.

They were something else entirely.

He changed seats and sat next to Hannibal, who didn’t even acknowledge his presence up until the moment when Will pressed himself against his side, and looked up at him, “Do you mind if I use you as a pillow?”

He saw the pupils dilate, and swallow the brown all around them, “Of course not, please do”

It was easy to just let his head drop onto his shoulder as if that was the only place where it could rest safely; his curls were tickling Hannibal’s neck and jaw, and he closed his eyes, imagining Il Mostro leaning down to kiss his forehead, but the kiss never came.

Somewhere, somewhen he drifted away into sleep, and dreamt of Alana asking him if he was  _ so _ straight then why was he having these thoughts of forehead kisses and monsters. Dream!Will laughed, “We’re all people, what’s the difference?”

Alana frowned and became a sponge painting of pretty crimson colours.  

He blinked awake hours later, mouth stuck to the grey fabric of the suit thanks to his drool, which honestly, when was the last time he drooled while sleeping?

Focusing blearily on his surroundings, he shoved his hand into Hannibal’s breast pocket, without even asking, to grab the silk burgundy napkin and patted his mouth with it, then rubbed at the wet spot.

“That’s not necessary” Hannibal’s expression was amused, again a mixture of fondness and terror.

He took the napkin from Will’s hand, briefly touching his hand with his thumbs.

The boy with nightmares let out a small noise, touch starved and yearning to claim everything for his own.

“What is it, my dear?”

_ Are you in love with me? _ “Nothing, how many hours left?” 

“Not even one, just forty minutes”

Then, as if it was something they did every day, he brushed a few strands of hair away from Will’s forehead, and he leaned into the touch, docile and sleep warm.

“I dreamt about Alana”

“Oh. A nightmare?”

“No”

“A good dream, then?”

“No, just... weird”

“She can be ...weird”

“Will you kill her?”

“Are you going to ask me that about everyone?”   
“I just might, so?”

“I promised her”

“And you always keep your promises”

“I do”

“The child?”

“I won’t harm him”

“Margot?”   
“She will be a widow”

“And what about me?”   
“We’ve already established that no harm will come to you, Will. Why do you keep asking?”

“No reason” 

 

Bedelia’s villa was at the top of a hill, hidden by a tree boulevard, and watching over the sea from every side. The sound of waves hitting the rocks was echoing in the night.

It wasn’t her hiding place, she knew he would come one day or another, she knew there was nowhere to hide. She didn’t believe they were dead, not even for a second. 

Even so, inebriated as she was, she didn’t see them coming, she didn’t hear them either until Will spoke.

“Hello Bedelia, meat’s back on the menu” he just said, as way of greeting. 

The half empty glass of vintage whiskey in her hand met the marble pavement in a small, tragic earthquake of its own.

A hand over her mouth and a metallic, pungent taste, painted the world black for her, and closed the curtains on the moonlight.

“What would you like to take first?”

“I don’t know, a leg?” Will shrugged, as if they weren’t talking about body parts at all. 

His brain was empty and dark, dark, dark. 

 

The saw cut through the first layer of skin easy enough, he even felt the skin stretch and rip under the blade, as he watched it make way for the raw, dark pink flesh, so tender and juicy.

When he reached the bone, he let Hannibal take over, and he observed.

The tiny droplets of blood finding solace in his skin, the slivers of meat stuck to his latex gloves.

Will felt like he was watching God do his work. 

“I have an Hawaiian recipe in mind for this. Do you enjoy exotic food, Will?”

“This particular one, I am sure I will. I want to help”

“It will take a few hours to cook. I’ll gladly accept your help”

“You have blood on your lips”  _ and everywhere else _ .

“Do I?” He licked it off, and smiled at Will. 

“How does she taste?”

“Ordinary”

_ And how will I taste? _ “You will elevate her to something exquisite”


	4. La Tazza e il Cantico

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dinner.

When Bedelia came to, Will was setting the table for three. 

“If you scream, I will stab you in the eye with this spoon. I’ve been told it hurts” he didn’t even look at her.

“You pathetic...man” her words were slurred, and she felt in a feverish state. If it were otherwise, she would've had a better, more pungent comeback for him.

She looked down at her missing leg, and as much as she wanted to scream in (only mental) agony, she kept it all inside, stuck in her throat, uncomfortable like food that goes down the wrong pipe.

“I warned you, Bedelia. Ready or not, here  _ he comes _ .”

“Don’t think he won’t murder you after he’s done playing with you”

“He won’t, we’re identically different, we can’t survive separation”

“You’ll be surprised at what he can survive”

He chuckled, “Let’s not be petty, or your oysters will taste sour”

“Or my leg”

“I’m sure that will taste sweet”

The faint noise of the oven, along with the stench of meat (her meat) made her stomach churn, and she wished she could get on her feet, if for nothing else but to lurch herself out of the window, to not give them the satisfaction of her defeat.

She wanted to be victorious even in her death, but this time she didn’t have the strength to stand up to death, and so she only gripped her fork, as tight as she could, to the point where it hurt, and she watched the monster she’d taken a journey with enter the room with his usual elegance, even when he was carrying a slaughtered leg on a plate, adorned with flowers yes, but still a dead thing.

He had the sleeves of his burgundy shirt rolled up, and a grey apron, supposedly taken from one of Bedelia’s cleaning ladies. It was too small for him, but he didn’t seem to care.

“Hello, Bedelia. Welcome back to the world”

“Hannibal” the contempt in her voice was evident, “couldn’t you just gut me instead of playing this farce?”

“Death shouldn’t come easy to you” Will answered, terrible like a wrathful God. 

Her lips twisted into a grimace, “Ah, I should’ve known this was your idea. You wished for so long to be Bluebeard’s last wife, and here  _ you are _ , fulfilled and as vile as your consort. Does your actual wife know what  _ you _ are?”

“My wife is a widow”

“You are so reckless”

“Now, let’s not ruin this delicious dinner with such animosity. We can be civil with each other, can’t we?” Hannibal interrupted them, appearing as the reasonable one out of the three, which made Bedelia laugh for a full two minutes.

A cannibal and a murderer, the most reasonable one, and isn’t that ironic?

“Yes, Hannibal, we can do that. Tell your puppy to stop showing his teeth”

“Let’s take a seat, shall we?”

 

Will stood in the same spot for what felt like hours on end, until he felt the pavement retreat from under his feet, leaving space to a black hole, that was ready to engulf him. 

Touch starved as he was, and seething with anger at the woman sat at the end of the table, he decided the show was still on, and without a word of warning, or even a glance, he moved Hannibal’s chair, and let himself fall right into the monster’s lap.

The monster, composed as always, didn’t even flinch at the sudden weight, but Will heard his breath catch.

“May I?” He asked, with the same tone he had used when begging him to go along with the plan to catch the Red Dragon.

“It’s dangerous to give a man everything he has ever wished for”

“I’m a cannibalistic serial killer’s most wanted  _ thing _ , should I be flattered?”

“No, but you should know that you are magnificent. More beautiful than any representation of God ever made.”

He parted his lips, “I want to taste the meat”

Hannibal cut a small slice with one hand only, his other hand was splayed against the small of Will’s back, and brought the slice to Will’s lips, that opened, pliant and soft, to take the meat inside and taste it, as if he had been waiting for just this moment all his life.

“How does it taste?”

“Exquisite”

Bedelia scoffed at the scene and downed her whiskey in one go, hoping to get drunk and pass out soon.

She wasn’t so lucky, she had to endure almost her whole leg being devoured, small piece by small piece, before the alcohol brought mercy upon her.

 

“Would you like a cup of chamomile tea before retiring for bed?”

“Please”

“You can take a shower in the meantime. I’ll have everything ready by the time you come out”

 

Hannibal and the chamomile were waiting for him, as promised, offering him a picturesque scene of middle eastern tea sets and richly dressed occidental men. In the background Pavarotti was gifting them with the beautiful words of The Traviata.

“You have taken a shower as well”

“Yes, in the ensuite bathroom”

Will felt particularly powerful when he said, “We could have saved water”

His consort, as Bedelia put it, didn’t miss a beat, “Are you becoming an environmentalist, Will?”

“I have always been one, you just didn’t notice”

They had always spoken in metaphors, the monster and he, and it looked like they weren’t going to stop.

He took a seat this time, there were no spectators he had to put a show on for, just himself, and he wasn’t ready for that; although he didn’t miss the way Hannibal’s fingers twitched as if they wanted to reach out and pull him into his lap again.

“This doesn’t taste as good as the one you made at  _ home _ ”

“Ah, forgive me, Will. She doesn’t seem to have the same kind”

“You are forgiven”  _ always forgiven _ .

“So, tell me, what are we taking tomorrow?”

“Her forearms, we could do a casserole. Earthy recipe, simple enough for me to cook”

“That seems like a splendid idea, I look forward to it” and his face confirmed that he  _ did  _ look forward to it, it was the same look he had given him when he had bitten Cordell, a fusion of love and pride, dark as it may be.

“As do I”

“What would you like to save for last?”

“Her tongue”

“That seems appropriate”

“Indeed”

They clinked their cups together as they would with champagne flutes. This time their teacups stayed intact.

_ Libiamo, libiamo ne'lieti calici _

_ che la bellezza infiora, _

Pavarotti intoned, and Hannibal uncrossed his legs, “would you like me to keep you company today as well?”

“I don’t have my dogs”

“Are you asking me to be your dog?”

Will’s smile was almost bashful, “Sort of”

Libiamo, amore, amor fra i calici

più caldi baci avrà

“Gladly”  _ amore _ .

The triumphant music filled the air, and found them both elated in their triumph, in the vast palace of their victim, asleep and vengeful.

“What is this song about?”

“To put it in simple words, it is about getting drunk and falling in love”

“So just like a Beyonce of past centuries”

“I suppose that’s one way you could put it”

“Would you translate it for me? The melody is beautiful”

“I’d love to. It will be a fitting bedtime story for tonight”

Ah si, godiamo, la tazza, la tazza e il cantico,

la notte abbella e il riso;

in questo, in questo paradiso ne scopra il nuovo dì.


	5. Chopin and Casseroles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Operas and violent delights.

Bedelia’s guest room was of questionable taste with tapestry that would have made most of those sellers on tv blush. The pastel yellow silk sheets were so horrendous and comfortable, perfect for a pair of (presumed dead) killers on the run like them.

Hannibal’s expression at the sight was caught between actual contempt at the taste and mirth at the sight of the boy curled up beautifully in yellow.

The chair by the bed he took a seat on was even worse, he didn’t even dare comment on it.

“No” Will whispered, face half hidden by the yellow nightmare.

“What is it, my dear Will? Is something troubling you?”   
“You can lie down on the bed. It’s big enough for three people, your neck will hurt if you fall asleep like that again.”

“How considerate of you, and to think there was a time when you wanted to see nothing more than my broken or snapped neck”

“If one cannot kill the devil, they may as well get accustomed to live with him” or  _ love _ him.

Hannibal stripped down to his boxers, his back to Will, who gazed at the branding mark, “Am I the devil then?”

“Some people say you are, I’m not especially religious”

When Hannibal turned to lift the covers, then Will’s gaze fell to the scar the Dragon had left above his hip, “The Devil was just a misunderstood angel, so whoever thinks I’m the Devil, is implying that I am an  _ angel _ ”

At that, Will snorted, “Yeah I bet they would be so happy to hear that, they’re not that smart, they don’t reach the same conclusion as you”

“Let them think what they want”

The boy with nightmares let his head sink into the pillow for infinite seconds before reaching for his phone, and sharing an earbud with Hannibal, like an holy communion for unforgivable sinners.

He could feel the monster’s breath on his lips and on his skin, as the translated words wrapped him up in a warm embrace, 

_ “Let's drink, my love, and the love among the chalices _

_ will make the kisses warmer.” _

 

He imagined kissing him, tearing out his tongue, tasting the blood, pulsing and lifelike on his own tongue, and without even realising he started licking his upper lip, slowly, slowly, left to right, and right to left, slow as a dying breath.

Hannibal’s eyes followed every tiny movement, desperate and faint from lack of touch.

“Thank you. For sharing that with me”

“Anytime, Will”

Like a revelation, he mapped Hannibal’s scars on his face, as if they were constellations he needed to learn everything about, “Who gave you these?”

“Uncle Jack, I believe”

The noise that came out of Will’s throat was half a growl, half a hum of disapproval, “When will we pay him a visit?”

“Whenever you like. Do the scars bother you?”

“No” he lied. He wanted nothing more than to scrape his nails against the hard skin, press and press until it would break under him, and then create new ones to hide those that didn’t belong there. 

He set the phone and the earbuds aside, on the questionable bedside table, a tad too ostentatious even for Bedelia, it was like she placed it there on purpose, knowing that her _old_ _flame_ and his new consort would hate it. He wouldn’t have put it past Bedelia.

“What did you think of the opera, then?”

“It was … interesting. What do  _ you _ think of it?”

“It’s quite the background music to murder couples in love, who are too enamored of the term, to really understand what to make of it, rude couples who think they are special. It’s a shame most of them wouldn’t understand the words.”

“Unless they are italian or speak the language”

“Perhaps I will show you Florence one day”

“I would like that” he murmured, craving to bite Hannibal’s smile right off and taste it.

“You could even join me for an opera night, they have beautiful theatres”

“I could. Do you have a favourite opera?”

“Tosca is one of my personal favourites, it’s the becoming of a beautiful young woman.”

“Becoming. Like mine? Her transformation into a murderer?”

“Yes, but she didn’t have me to guide her through it. It was too much for her so she killed herself”

“Ah, every aspiring murderer should have a cannibal serial killer in their lives as a mentor” and he could feel that his smile in that moment was so blinding for Hannibal that he could do nothing at all, nothing but long for Will in silence.

Before giving in to what they both craved, he ordered, “Turn around”

He could only see curiosity in Hannibal’s expression, as he obeyed, and turned his back to Will, the brand on his back exposed and dark against the skin.

Will’s fingers were gentle, as they skimmed across the scar, but as the seconds ticked by, they became more and more insistent, promising violence to come, and the body under his touch shuddered at the mere thought.

“I would have enjoyed killing Mason”

“I’m sure you would have, but that was Margot’s assignment and she didn’t disappoint”

“He didn’t deserve your touch, he didn’t deserve to be elevated into a beautiful piece of art. You knew that, she knew that.”

“Then he didn’t deserve your touch either”

“Oh, I wouldn’t have turned him into art. I would have fed him to his pigs, piece by piece, as he watched, until the last piece, which would have been his head” he pressed his fingers against the Verger’s name, and Hannibal let out what could be called a moan, but was still to quiet for that, and Will wanted to hear him  _ scream _ . Or maybe, he wanted to hear him beg, or both, both at the same time.

Afraid to lose himself completely, he withdrew his hand, and waited for Hannibal to turn around.

He looked terrifying, feral, and  _ beautiful _ .

“Good night, Hannibal”

“Good night, my dear Will” 

Will fell asleep to the sound of his voice, hoarse, and rough, and just like he wanted to devour him whole.

And maybe he would have let him.

 

“We will take your arms today, Bedelia” Will announced, bringing an apple rose to his mouth, barely showing his teeth.

“Why not take the whole thing and roast me like a pig?”

“Where’s the suffering in that for you? Where’s the pain?”

“Where’s the fun for you, you mean?” She bit back, her arms suddenly heavy and like they were not part of her any more.

Will just smiled.

He glanced up at the smell of freshly brewed coffee, and met Hannibal halfway to give him a chaste kiss on the cheek, “Thank you for the coffee”

Hannibal almost dropped the pot, but didn’t take off his human suit, “You’re very welcome, it was my pleasure”

“Oh I’m sure”

It was then that he saw Hannibal wonder what game he was playing at, but the truth was he wasn’t so sure himself, not yet at least.

In a way, not that he was going to admit this anytime soon, he was just showing Bedelia that Hannibal was  _ his _ . Staking his claim, so to speak.

The way the light shone upon the monster’s lips made Will’s own burn.

 

It was quite a domestic scene, out of another world, the one in the villa’s living room, illuminated by the pink of the sunset.

Hannibal was slicing vegetables at the counter, and Will was cutting the meat into cubes.

In the other room, Bedelia was barely alive. It was ruining the idyllic painting.

To drown the shallow breathing of the dying victim, Hannibal played Chopin’s Nocturne op.9, No.2, and hummed along with it.

“What is this song called?”

“It’s Chopin’s Nocturne, this is the most popular piece. He was only 20 years old when he wrote it.”

“It’s ...delicate and haunting at the same time.”

“I used to listen to this quite often when I was young”

Will laughed, pressing the knife down to cut a nerve, “I can imagine that, you a broody looking teenager, listening to chopin and giving people the stink eye, from the solitude of a bench. You were better than everyone else.”

“I’m glad my lonely teenager years amuse you. I assure you it wasn’t that amusing for me, they were difficult years. I survived on Chopin, Kierkegaard, and Dostoevsky, all dead people but nonetheless, the closest friends I had. It’s a strange thing, when people find themselves at the loneliest point in their life, they don’t seek companionship from other people, friendship, or foreign touches, but the advice of dead people, who have led a mostly successful life.”

“Maybe they think that by following their footsteps, they will lead a successful life themselves. They are afraid to let their life slip past them, unnoticed. They don’t want to become just a name to mourn in the local newspaper, everyone wants to become someone. It looks like that worked out just fine for you, after all.”

Hannibal’s thumb caressed his cheekbone, and his fingers carefully lifted his chin up, “Remarkable boy”

“The meat’s all been cut up” he leaned into his hand, like a big cat.

“Wonderful”


	6. Vivaldi and Tableaus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A death. 
> 
> (Trigger Warning for Character Death, not Will's or Hannibal's)

The meat was cooking slowly, and Will was watching the news distractedly; the shape of Hannibal’s shoulders was much more interesting to him. 

“Jack’s on tv again” 

Hannibal looked up from the stove, and turned to Will, half curled up on himself on the sofa, “That’s refreshing. What does uncle Jack have to say?”

“He’s commenting on Freddie’s latest article. She thinks we’re alive”

“Perhaps we should send him a message”

“Oh, we will”

_ I love you _ , his eyes seemed to say to Will’s, and as he smiled back, he wondered if the feelings threatening to choke him to death were just a mirror of Hannibal’s or his own. 

“Is the stew done?”   
“Almost, we just need to let it rest for a few minutes”

“Then  _ come _ . Sit with me”

Will held out his hand for him to take, and pulled him close to him, “You seem to be craving touch lately”

“I miss my dogs”

Hannibal just smiled, he saw right through him every damn time. He didn’t say anything pretentious like the last time Will talked about the dogs, like  _ allow me to be your dog _ , or well, anything at all, but he ran his hands through Will’s curls, just like he’d always imagined.

“How will you kill her?” Hannibal asked softly.

“Mmh, I thought I would leave the tongue for last but...what I will do is... I … will cut her tongue out, then slice her all up, open her up nicely, and tear her heart out, and squeeze it until it stops beating. I will be drenched in blood, up to my elbows, droplets on my face… and skin...”

He could feel the monster’s heartbeat racing under his ear, he could feel his breath catch.

The next words out of his mouth were so soft, so insecure, so delicate, just like the Nocturne, “I would  _ love _ to see that”

“You can pick the background music”

 

Vivaldi’s winter played over the grim dinner scene, and when Will reached across the table to pull her tongue out, the Allegro started, and the tempo was so fitting that Hannibal’s smile was all sharp teeth and proud eyes. 

Will felt her heart stop beating in his hand, and he had never felt more powerful than that, he was God, cruel and relentless, with no mercy for anybody.

“I will remember how beautiful you are right now, for the rest of my days, Will” and he was already panting, exhausted and finally at destination, each word Hannibal said an arrow through his skin, making it harder and harder to breathe, “I wish I could paint this moment, over and over, but I fear no representation on paper would make it justice” he couldn’t, he couldn’t paint the ragged breaths, and the smell of blood, he couldn’t paint that.

Will basked in that adoration, and for a moment, he found himself at the feet of an altar, where Hannibal was waiting for him, with his hand extended towards him, and all dressed in white.

The church was old, ruined, falling apart, but it didn’t matter, they were both God.

He didn’t realise that he was mirroring the gesture until the real Hannibal took his hand, just like that night on the cliff.

He rested his head on his chest, just like then, and admired Bedelia’s chest, carved open, her tongue where her heart should be, and her bones beautiful frames of the gloomy tableau, on display for the world to see. Her blonde curls were smeared with blood, sticky and stiff now, and her mouth was hanging half open, dripping dark, dark blood still.

“What should we tell Jack?”

“I’ll send Ms. Lounds a message from the burner phone, she’ll know what to tell Uncle Jack”

“He’ll be furious”

“That’s the outcome I’m hoping for”

Will smiled against the now blood soaked shirt, and curled up his fist in it, “I should get cleaned up and then we can be on our way”

“Allow me to prepare you a bath”

“Yes”

 

Bedelia’s bathroom was golden and white, and looked right out of a royal palace. The bathtub was white with gold claw feet and it was in the centre of the room, surrounded by marble and nothing else.

“It smells like lavender in here”

“Yes, it will help you relax. I apologise, this is not quite the same as the one we have at home, the Marula oil would have helped your circulation and hydration as well, but we’ll have to do with what we have at hand for now.”

“Next time you should bring the salts with you. I like those.”

“I shall,  _ come _ now” again, he reached out with his hand, and Will took it with no hesitation, letting the towel that was covering his body fall to the side.

Unfazed by Will’s naked body, he guided him into the bathtub, and had him lie down, and rest his head against the cool marble.

“I won’t be a moment”

Will closed his eyes, relaxing to the sound of Hannibal’s footsteps, and then of a stool being positioned just behind him, and finally of Hannibal’s hands at his shoulders.

“May I?” 

_ May I what,  _ Will thought,  _ kill me? Fuck me? Eat me? _

“Yes”

Hannibal just slid his fingers down the side of his neck, and then onto his shoulder, gently, then a little bit firmer.

It would have been so easy, so easy, to break his neck, but he didn’t, instead he kneaded his thumbs into his shoulders and neck, where his muscles were wound tight, tight, from the tension and the adrenaline, and he made him soft, soft, like a ball of cotton.

“I’m falling asleep”

“That means you are relaxing, Will, sleep if you wish. I’ll get everything ready for our departure”

After the bath, he stepped out of the tub, and he fell into the clean towel Hannibal was holding like a wingless bird, like a dead weight, his wet forehead hitting his shoulder.

“Easy”

Will’s answer was a noncommittal noise.

 

The train station was almost desert at that time of the night, it was only them and an old lady on her way to see her grandchildren, one two years old, one newborn.

Will congratulated her as Hannibal sent Freddie an (artistic) photo of Bedelia’s corpse and the location.

On the train, there were also not many people, and their carriage was empty. He wondered if Hannibal already knew this.

This time Will was next to the window, and Hannibal next to him, an overwhelming warmth.

He looked at his reflection in the window, hollow eyed and calm, “Bedelia… said … you were ...in… love with me”

“Did she?”

“Yes.”

“And what do you think?”

“I think I knew that she was right for a long time but I was scared… to know.”

“And now?”

“Now I’m not scared”

Hannibal smiled that smile of his, the one he only had for Will, and dropped his head onto his shoulder, “May I use you as a pillow?”

“Please do,  _ Hannibal _ .”

The beast fell asleep in his embrace, as if he were always meant to do just that.


	7. Kale and Eggs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will tastes his own absoluteness.

Freddie was having her usual kale with eggs breakfast with orange (with juicy bits) juice, when she received an image from an unknown number.

When she opened it, she wheezed.

“Oh my god oh my god oh my god! Fuck!”

Her cat, whom she called Count Lecter because he was a pretentious asshole, looked quite concerned, when their owner sprinted for her work desk, and opened her laptop, writing exclusive in capital letters, and then writing away for minutes on end, the kale and the eggs cold and forgotten.

Exactly three minutes after she published the story, her phone rang, ominously.

“Hello, Jack”

“What the hell is this, Miss Lounds?!”

“It’s exactly what it looks like, I was right all along”

“Where did you get this?”

“Someone sent it to me anonymously”

“Of course they did!”

“Sorry, Jack. I have to go now, my kale and egg’s feeling lonely.”

 

“Freddie already published the story” Will said, from the couch, cuddled up with all his dogs.

“She didn’t waste any time”

“You didn’t answer my question from earlier on the train”

“You said you already know the answer.”

“I do”

It was warm near the fireplace but he was trembling. He thought he was trembling from the desire to hear him say those words out loud, hanging in the open, uttered in the peace of the room, maybe to break it, maybe to consolidate it.

Hannibal didn’t say a word, though. He simply walked to the sofa and took a seat next to him, letting the dogs jump off and scatter all over the house and paying no mind to the incredible amount of dog hair that he would find all over his silk pyjama bottoms.

As silent as his bare footsteps were, he pressed a kiss to the scarred temple, and Will shivered even more.

“Are we safe here?” He asked instead of pressing the issue further, instead of turning his head just the right angle to feel his lips against his own.

“You think they will find us?”   
“I’m just asking”

“We’ll leave this place when I think we’re no longer safe”

A small nod, “I like this place”

“Then we shall kill whoever comes knocking”

He believed in his promise, he always keeps his promises, “If I know the answer… and it’s true… why have you never acted on it?”

Hannibal’s smile was predatory, teeth bared and sharp, “ _ Oh Will _ , I do not simply wish to love you. I want to  _ worship  _ you. I will never ask for anything that is not given freely of you. Not anymore.”

Will couldn’t take his eyes off it, and he felt he couldn’t breathe.

“So you’re waiting for me to give myself to you…?”

“Or for you to stake your claim”

Will swallowed, licking his lips, suddenly too dry “ _ Oh? _ ”

In that moment, his dream about Alana came back to his mind, her surprised expression, his nonchalance, his fluid sexuality.

He had never been as hard as he was  _ in that moment _ just after talking with someone. He hadn’t been touched in forever, he was starving, and Hannibal’s words were more intimate than touches. 

Hannibal glanced down at the inelegant tent in his pyjama pants, then looked back up at Will, eyes blown wide, “Would you like me to take care of that for you?”

Will’s voice was rough, deep, “No”, a breath, a pause, “but… tell me, how would you take care of it?”

“I would ask you if you… prefer my mouth or my hand?”

He tilted his head to one side, chest heavy, tight, so tight it almost hurt, “Your...hand”

“I would kiss you first, as if I had been dying to taste you for centuries. Then, when we are both lost in the kiss, I would palm your cock through your pants, to learn its shape, and its every curve”

“ _ Fuck, Hannibal _ ” 

“I would wait until it’s completely hard, leaking, and you’re desperate to be touched, to pull your pants and boxers down, to take your cock in my hand, close my hand around it, move it gently, slowly at first, slow, up and down, I would watch you breathe and moan, and writhe. I would speed it up, bit by bit, as I kiss the pulse point on your neck, and scrape my teeth against the tender skin. I would ask for your permission before I bite into the skin, and draw blood, and lick it off your skin as if it were pure ambrosia. I would feast on your blood, as you reach climax, and come all over my hand, Will, I would keep going until the last drop.”

He was so close to coming untouched,  _ so  _ close, “and … and ...then?” He sounded like he had just ran two or maybe three marathons.

Unable to resist, he slid a hand down and touched himself, barely, but he was so achingly hard that Hannibal’s words were enough contact. 

“Then I would get on my knees, and clean you up. Wouldn’t let a drop go to waste”

Will stroked himself once, twice, careful of each breath he took as there seemed to be no air at all in the room, “Not a drop”, he repeated.

“I would swallow all of it as if I had been starving for centuries just for that taste”, and even with his eyes closed, he could clearly see Hannibal’s smile.

That did it, and he shivered so hard that even breathing came in gasps and broken noises, his fingers were holding onto the sofa, his knuckles all white in exhaustion, his forehead damp letting stray hairs stick to it, eyes at half-mast, as if he were high on something, and maybe, maybe he was.

Not even teenager Will had come in his pants like this, and now, look at the state he was in.

 

Hannibal drank the scene in, swallowed it down like a piece of exquisite meat, Beethoven’s 7th Symphony playing in his mind, joyful and beautiful, and he waited for the next move, confident that it wouldn’t disappoint him.

And it didn’t.

Will’s voice was steady, but sensual, and veering on daring even, “So, are you going to get on your knees or not?”

Hannibal’s smirk was answer enough, “Am I allowed a kiss first?”

“No” and then in a smaller voice, “not yet, no” 

The beast dropped to his knees in adoration to worship a God that was only now discovering his power, his absoluteness.


	8. Blood and Cum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will stakes his claim.

With hands that had never trembled as much as they were now, Hannibal pulled Will’s pyjama pants and boxers down, experiencing the whole in slow motion.

Will’s cock was still half hard, slightly twitching, and covered in a sticky mess. He tugged at Hannibal’s hair, impatient for Hannibal’s mouth to meet his sensitive skin.

Not only did his mouth meet his skin, but good on his promise, he savoured every single inch, with his hands firmly planted on Will’s thighs, he pressed soft butterfly kisses along the scarred smile on his stomach, reveling in the shudders he elicited. 

Then, slow as torture, he nuzzled his nose against his pubic hair, and scooped up every drop of cum trapped in between, feeling his cock twitch against his chin.

Will’s hand tightened in his hair and his moan was nothing short of godlike, with his head thrown back in ecstasy, he was more beautiful than Saint Teresa, lost in the pleasure of her spirit as sculpted by the Bernini.

“How do I taste?” He asked, when his mouth met the head of his cock, and then he ran his tongue along the softening cock.

He smiled up at him, cheeks flushed and lips all wet, “Absolutely divine”

He licked at the slit, underneath the foreskin, making sure nothing would go to waste. It would be a sin.

Once sated, he mouthed an unbearably soft, soft kiss to the inside of his thigh. It’d been so long since he had felt the need, the instinct to be careful, loving,  _ soft _ .

 

Will stroked his hair, speckled with silver and gold, and watched him for a long time, as he regained his breath, and as he watched, and watched, he wondered what the beast would look like when he truly loses control of himself, when he can’t keep his shouts in, and his moans, and his shivers, and when he can’t bear to be gentle because everything is too much, because he wants  _ too much _ . Did Alana ever witness that? Or Bedelia?

The caresses became violent when that thought crossed his mind, and the beast lifted his gaze.

“What’s the matter, my dear Will?”

Will’s gaze was steel, “Nothing, come up here.”

His thighs were on each side of Will, letting their foreheads almost touch, “I’m here, so, will you tell me what is bothering you?”

His fingertips rested against Hannibal’s pyjama buttons, playing with them, “I was thinking about Alana and Bedelia… “

A fierce smile graced Hannibal’s lips, “You can take that off”

At a slow pace, trembling but unrushed, every button came undone, and the shirt slid easily at the sides to become a crumple on the floor.

The palm of Will’s hand mapped his chest, then slid around him to dig his nails into the branding mark. He felt Hannibal grow harder against his stomach at the touch.

“This shouldn’t be here, you don’t belong to him”

“Who do I belong to then? Tell me.”

“Me” 

And as he realised his power over him, his nails cut into the scarred skin, feeling blood washing over them, warm and dark, and  _ his _ . The scars were peeled off in a painfully torturing way, fingers carving into the flesh, and tearing it apart.

Tiny rivers of blood were painting his back and soaking his pants, and Will’s skin, and Hannibal was panting against his neck, half moans and half pained noises, trembling and nearly undone himself, and Will had never seen anything so empowering, he had never wanted to claim anything for himself more than the man in his arms in that moment. 

The monster started grinding against his scarred stomach, and everything around them, even the air was starting to smell like a mixture of blood and cum.

When he felt that Hannibal was close, Will withdrew his hands from his back, and brought one to his lips and one to Hannibal’s. They were drenched in blood.

Without ever looking away from each other they licked at them, sucked the fingers into their mouths, and both of them imagined the scene taking place in an old chapel, maybe a medieval ruin, and theirs was a ritual ages old.

Hannibal’s lips were so red, so red, that Will could do nothing else but cup his face in his hands, and kiss them.

True to his words, when the other man (beast) kissed back, it was as if he had been dying to do so for centuries, stealing both their breaths away, and coming in his pyjama pants that had costed him perhaps as much as two rolex watches. 

 

Sometime after, when they were both able to speak, Will was the first to talk, “Well, we both came in our pants like teenagers, and I think I need a whiskey or three.”

“I have never come in my pants with Alana or Bedelia. I believe that was one of the many questions you wanted to ask”

“Yes.”

“Beautiful and powerful as she was, every time I had sex with Alana, I thought of you, Will. It was all part of the game, a game where the prize was you.”

“Did you  _ want  _ me even then?” Did you  _ love  _ me?

“Perhaps. Bedelia one day told me that I was obsessed with you.”

“It is strange, I mean, that we just made each other come, and yet, here we are, sitting by the fireplace, not even troubled a tiny little bit”

“We both knew this was inevitable, just as death is. You dance around it, sometimes you wish to avoid it, sometimes you wish for it.”

“Is that your pretentious way of saying that we were made for each other?”

As an answer, he kissed him, lazy and languid.

“Would you help me clean and dress the wounds on my back?”

“If you say  _ please _ ”

Hannibal smiled, “Please, will you help me?”

The boy with nightmares smiled back and kissed the moist lips in front of him once again, and he found himself thinking that he if could go on and on and on for hours, he wouldn’t stop.

It was Hannibal the first to stand up, offering his hand to Will, and then turning his back to him to let him admire his marks, beautiful butterfly wings made of blood and flesh. The Verger branding mark was nowhere to be seen.

Will pulled his pants up and took his hand, following him to the bathroom, which wasn’t as ostentatious as Bedelia’s, but still lovely, in a rustic way, with the rose coloured tiles and the wooden cupboards.

 

After the wounds were cleaned, he started dressing them in white bandages, wary of the fresh wounds he had just created.

“Did I hurt you?”

“You made me suffocate in pleasure”

“That’s not an answer.”

“I felt immense pain and it was wonderful. Anything you give me is a gift that I will always treasure, and the scars you have given me are one that I wasn’t expecting but that is most welcome. You always surprise me in the most beautiful way”

“You sound like a love song for teenagers”

They both laughed at Will’s horrible responses every time Hannibal paid him a compliment.

“Will you forgive me for that?”

“I told you, you’re  _ always _ forgiven”

“Shall I prepare some tea before we turn in?”

“Please”


	9. Ave Maria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will knows what will happen, end of the world or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone for their kudos, comments, and advice. It's been hugely appreciated and it has pushed me to write more of these two. It's the end for now, but I might have a sequel planned in mind, with more of the other characters, but as I will be doing overtime at work a lot this month, I wanted to at least wrap this part up before i drown in work :) again, thank you so much. I hope you have enjoyed this story!

On tv, Jack was talking to a journalist, live from Bedelia’s dining room. They weren’t showing the images of the murder, material too gory, too violent for sensitive eyes, whereas Freddie had published the photo on the website’s home page; a beautiful portrait of her corpse, with a black veil put over her golden hair and with the full moon casting an exquisite shadow behind her head, like a halo. 

“He cannot hide forever, we will catch him, and this time we won’t let him go. There will be no mistakes. He needs to pay for what he’s done.” Jack was saying, firm voice and dark expression.

Will rested his cheek against Hannibal’s shoulder, who was propped up against two or three pillows, on his (or  _ their _ ) bed, and laughed, “I’m looking forward to see Jack”

“It’ll be a while, he hasn’t caught the bait yet, he hasn’t seen the clues we left him”

“We have to kill him together, at the same time”

“As we were always meant to”

“Yes, I want him to see  _ us _ ”

“And he shall, my dear Will”

Will, at the mention of his name, moved closer as if he wanted to crawl right inside his skin, and hide there. He mouthed at Hannibal’s pulse point on his neck, and felt him smile.

“You may have me before going to sleep, if you like.”

“Have you,  _ how _ ?”

“However you like”

Will pressed his lips against his, and hesitant, he slipped his hand under Hannibal’s trousers. 

“I have never held another man’s cock in my hand”

“Would you like to?”

“Yes. I… want to see… and touch all of you”

It felt weird in his hand, warm and pulsing, and growing harder at his touch. It was different from his, it was thicker and uncut.

Hannibal pressed a kiss to Will’s curls, whispering soft encouragements for him to move his hand along the entire length, rewarding him with pleased little noises that had nothing to do with the cannibal monster.

“ _ Will _ …”

“Yes?”

“I  _ need  _ you”

Just that word alone almost made him come, because he  _ needed _ him, he who made sure to never need anybody else but himself.

“ _ Fuc- _ ”

Hannibal ate the ending of the word with his mouth, and with a hand on the back of Will’s neck, he felt his hair standing on end, overcome by everything they were becoming.

The moans were prayers, and chants of their names, spiralling down their ears and their throats; their hands were  _ everywhere _ , touching as much as they could but never, never enough. 

“Would you be okay to wait here just a moment?”

Will half growled, impatient to have him all for himself, but Hannibal knew how to tame just about anything, calming him down with a cascade of kisses all over his skin.

Much more agreeable, Will still said  _ no _ , although in a softer way.

“I know what you want to do, and no, I don’t care. I can still have  _ you _ in some other way, I don’t… I am not ready...” he smiled at Hannibal’s displeased noise, “but I can…” fingers tracing lips, “... I can still fuck your mouth, can’t I?” 

Hannibal’s cock twitched in his hand at the second  _ fuck _ , more pre-cum trailing down Will’s fingers, and he spoke, half stuttering, half amazed, “ _ You _ can have me in whichever way you would like, Will. My mouth is yours”

“Then I shall claim it”

“ _ Please _ ”

 

There were only the sounds of the headboard hitting against the wall, and of Hannibal’s head against the headboard, and their breathing, and the squishy sound of Will’s cock moving against the insides of the monster’s mouth.

Will’s hands were firmly planted on the headboard, eyes fixed on Hannibal’s, who couldn’t keep his eyes open at times.

In between pants and gasps and noises, Will wondered aloud, “What would be the background music for this moment, what are you playing….in your head?”

Hannibal moaned around the mouthful of cock, before sucking gently one last time, and releasing it with a wet pop, to answer, “Ave Maria by Schubert” and his lips were positively obscene as he pronounced that.

Will laughed, his whole body alight with it, and the man underneath him looked amused by the whole thing, really, so as he continued to laugh, he took his cock inside of his mouth again, both hands on Will’s buttocks to push him closer, closer, closer.

Will thought of them fucking, him inside Hannibal, or Hannibal inside him, it didn’t matter, as long as one of them ended when the other one began, and imagined the Ave Maria playing in the background, but then, he thought that maybe Hannibal wouldn’t call it  _ fucking _ , maybe he would call it making  _ love _ , and he would tell him he  _ loved  _ him. That made it for him, and he came down his throat, without any warning at all, falling in love with the noises Hannibal made, half choking, half sputtering, but still, swallowing as much as he could,  _ not to let a drop go to waste _ .

Flushed up to his cheeks, Will collapsed on top of Hannibal, who opened his arms and wrapped them around him as if he were a gift sent from the Heavens, as his only way of salvation.

“Was it worthy of the Ave Maria…?”

“The Ave Maria is not worthy of you, Will...”

“You came… too. When ...did you come…?”

“When I felt you spilling down my throat…, I couldn’t help myself.”

“Do I taste that good?”

“ _ Heavenly _ . If I had to pick a taste that I couldn’t go without for the rest of my life, it would be  _ you _ .”

“Then I shall make sure you do not  _ starve _ ”

For once their sleep was dreamless, Will’s head tucked under Hannibal’s chin and held, safe, safe, safe in the arms of the beast.

 

If Nightmare was a city, then Jack Crawford had been its citizen for a long time now; he couldn’t get out, like in an enchanted maze with no exit.

Death and even worse things happened on a daily basis, and he didn’t know who to turn to any more; it seemed that everybody he ever had turned to in times of despair had been killed, or worse, turned into a murderer themselves.

His thumb had been hovering over the green call button on his phone for the last few minutes, unsure if he was even allowed to press it; the name on the screen read  _ Alana _ . He couldn’t do that to her.

He pressed it anyway.

Her voice was stern when she answered, also tired, “Jack… have you any idea what time is it here?”

He hadn’t thought of that, “...I...”

“Yeah I didn’t think so. What do you want? You must be  _ really _ desperate to call me”

“Have you not seen it?”

“I prefer not to look at the US news. It’s quiet here, you don’t hear anything unless you look for it, and I don’t want to look for it. When he comes for me, then I will know.”

“You didn’t believe he was dead then”

“Not for a moment, no. I knew from the moment I saw Will’s face that morning, I knew he couldn’t help himself…”

“He… or well, they, according to Freddie Lounds, they killed Bedelia”

“I can’t say I’m surprised”

“Do you think he can be saved?”   
“...No, Jack...he was lost already when you brought him back...He had found a balance, a family, but once he saw him again, there was no way he would go back. You knew that.”

“I’m sorry, Alana, I never meant…”

“I know, but I can’t help you. I want peace and quiet with my wife and with my son until he comes and fulfills his promise. I don’t want to miss a moment with them until my promised death. This is goodbye, Jack.”

“Goodbye…” he answered to the silence of the line.

 

“Who are you saying goodbye to?” Margot murmured, half hidden by the soft pillow.

“Jack, he wants my help. I said no”

“Good”

 

The morning announced itself with thunders and lightning, and barking dogs, waking Will up in a most unpleasant manner.

“Shit, I forgot to let the dogs out”

Pulling on the first things he came across, he ran to the living room, coming to a halt when he saw the scene before his very eyes.

The dogs were happily barking at Hannibal, who was feeding each of them homemade treats, and who was wearing muddy, rain soaked trousers with a million of dog paw prints on them, and nothing else.

“Good morning, Will”

“...you walked the dogs…?”

“Yes. It proved to be quite a difficult task, but we all survived.”

Will erased the distance between them within seconds, and kissed him, tasting his own awful morning breath, “Thank you”

“It was my pleasure. What would you like for breakfast?”

“You”

“If I had known that walking the dogs would have made you this.... happy, then I would have done it sooner, but I’m afraid I need a shower first”

“Forget about the shower, I don’t care”

Hannibal only smiled in consent, and brushed an unbearably tender kiss over his lips, hoisting himself up on the table, and pulling Will in with his legs.

Will felt their cocks brush against each other, and he parted his lips against Hannibal’s.

“What… does it feel like to have a cock in your mouth…?”

“Yours… it feels like an act of faith, a benediction, if you will.”

“And others?”

“Just an enjoyable pastime, most of the time. A piece of meat, alive and pulsing in your mouth, that  _ you _ can decide what to do with.”

That made Will laugh, and he wondered, if Hannibal had ever done what Mason had implied at the dinner, but it didn’t really matter.

“And have you ever had one inside you?”

Hannibal raised an eyebrow, smirking at the question, “Yes, a few times, although I must admit that I do usually prefer to top. I have yet to meet someone who can match my expectations”

“And if I said, ...if I said that I wanted to be in you, what would you say?”

“I would say… that I am yours to do as you please, Will, and that it would be an honour for me to welcome you inside my body.”

Will only blinked, “...do you have condoms?”

“I’m afraid not, I checked this morning seeing as you didn’t let me even check last night. Do you?”

“No…, how far is the nearest convenience store?”

“Two hours and a few minutes by car, remember, we are in the middle of nowhere, as you so eloquently put it”

“I’ll order them online, next day delivery. Do you have a fake credit card I can use?”

“Of course. But, can  _ you _ wait until tomorrow?”

“I can be very patient. Can  _ you _ ?”

Hannibal’s expression became fond and awful, terrifying, just like the ravenstag’s in Will’s dream, “I would wait a lifetime for  _ you _ , and if I were sure of an eternity ahead of us, then I would wait until the world collapsed on itself”

“And what if I rejected you at the end of the world?”

“You already know what happens. End of the world or not”

“You destroy everything that is dear to me, until the only thing left in my world is  _ you _ ”

They both smiled, and they couldn’t tell which smile was which, everything was the same but also completely different. And maybe Will was just fine with it.


End file.
